Auld Lang Syne
by PiscesChikk
Summary: A New Year's Eve stroll with Jourdan Carter and Harold Finch leads to a collision with the past.


When I wrote Remember Me, I had always wanted to expand on Finch's relationship with Jourdan. I liked their first meeting in the library and wished to write some more scenes with those two, but driving the story forward, I didn't get a chance to. This is just a little something I came up with during the holidays. Enjoy

* * *

Finch held onto the tiny gloved hand caught in his, and squeezed it tighter as they walked the row of shops and stores that were still open tonight. It was New Year's Eve, and the city was buzzing. Tourists and locals alike all crowded the streets. Some had bags of purchases, some were wearing costumes, and some were dressed to the nines as they all sought to bring in the upcoming year in their own way.

Jourdan was smiling up at him with her father's eyes, his smile and her mother's bubbly personality.

"One more shop, Uncle Harold?" He hadn't gotten quite used to the term just yet, but it was growing on him. He himself had no other family to speak of, but being called 'uncle' by Reese's daughter instead of 'Mr.', gave him a sense of belonging he didn't dare act like he needed before.

They were doing some last minute shopping for the New Year's Eve dinner they were all having this evening. Joss, John, Lana Fusco along with Shaw and himself and Jourdan, were gathering at one of his safe houses. The meal was being catered by one of the best chefs in all of New York, and he and Jourdan had gotten carried away buying gifts for everyone.

"Just one more, Jourdan. Then we really need to go," he said as she pulled him by the hand into a Barnes & Noble bookstore and over to a large display of the newest hardback children's book.

"The Lonely Butterfly," he read aloud.

"I've been waiting for it to be published, Uncle Harold," she picked it up as she dropped his hand, staring at it like it was a precious gem, a rare jewel, a thing of wonderment. He smiled at her, glad that she was so unlike the many young people who couldn't see the benefits of a good read. She was truly different, from her love of languages, reading and travelling. She was truly her father's…and mother's child.

"Would you like a copy?" he asked, already making up his mind to add it to the pile of things he'd already gotten for her so far.

She started to answer him excitedly, but then shook her head.

"You've already gotten so many things for me tonight; I think it'd be kinda selfish to ask for another."

All of a sudden her face grew sad and he asked her why.

"I wish there was something I could do for you," she started. "I wish I could get you a gift."

"Jourdan….your presence, your company….your time…." he was having difficulty getting the words out. Her sentiment caught him quite off guard as she frequently did. "You….are enough." He didn't just mean her; he also meant her mother and their addition to the small circle of people that had become important to him.

She nodded her head as if she understood, and despite her protests he picked up the book anyway.

As they stood at the register, he looked at the artwork on the front and back covers. It was outstanding, and when he opened it up, he pressed his lips together when he saw the artist's name.

'Illustration by Grace Hendricks'

He should have known.

What he would have wanted for Christmas, what he wanted now more than ever, was one more chance just to be with her again. But he knew it could never be. He handed the cashier his credit card, waiting for her to run it through and felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

It was his notification, the one that told him whenever Grace was in close proximity. A bittersweet feeling fell over him. A new year around the corner, the need for closeness with family and loved ones, all made him yearn for her in a new way. He was tempted to see her, to let her see him. But common sense and a fear for her safety wouldn't allow it.

He knew he couldn't risk it.

He hurriedly signed for the purchase and took Jourdan's hand once more.

"Come on, Jourdan. We have to get going."

Just then a sea of people came toward him and though he tried to get out of the way, his limp would allow him to move only so quickly. By the time he'd gotten out of their path, it was too late; he was face to face with Grace.

Her hand flew to her face as she instantly recognized him. Her head bobbed forward and her eyes started to pool with tears. He was immobilized, unable to speak, or even think of anything to say. Years of memories flooded his mind, moments passed between them, and his breathing felt as if it literally slowed down. He could feel the blood draining from his face; he could hear the loud thumping of his heart. He could feel everything as he never had before.

She was here.

Though he wasn't looking at her, he could feel Jourdan's eyes on him, her gaze curious as she looked from him to the redheaded woman she didn't know.

"Harold?" Grace was the first to speak, and he fought to find his voice.

"Grace….this is…." His hand rested on Jourdan's shoulder, his intent was to introduce her.

"Jourdan," she began, holding her hand out to shake. "My name's Jourdan. Nice to meet you."


End file.
